


The Stains of Desire (Who Were You Trying to Fool?)

by Morbidocity



Category: Avengers, Frostiron - Fandom, Iron Man - Fandom, Marvel, Thor - Fandom, Tony Stark/Loki - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Cheating, Drabble, Emotional, FrostIron - Freeform, I Made Myself Cry, I hate myself okay?, Loki Angst, Loki Feels, Loki Needs a Hug, M/M, Tony Angst, Tony Being Tony, Tony Feels, Tony Has Issues, this is NOT okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2018-01-03 00:39:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morbidocity/pseuds/Morbidocity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the past while Loki has suspected that Tony was having an affair with another.  Now, in his hands he holds proof to his theory and it's just killing him. </p><p>Excerpt; He can smell the perfume just as strongly as he had the week prior, a sickenly sweet smell burned into the fibres of his memory.  It was accompanied by the more than compromising scene that he had discovered, one that had etched itself into his mind, burrowed deep and refused to be forgotten.  There was a part of Loki that doubted that he'd ever be able to forget it and he loathes the fact.  He loathes it all, now that he thinks about it; loathes the way he loves him, loathes that he allowed himself to fall this low.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stains of Desire (Who Were You Trying to Fool?)

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short little drabble. Found a prompt when I was cleaning things out and decided to fill it. 
> 
> ~Kaye

He can smell the perfume just as strongly as he had the week prior, a sickenly sweet smell burned into the fibres of his memory. It was accompanied by the more than compromising scene that he had discovered, one that had etched itself into his mind, burrowed deep and refused to be forgotten. There was a part of Loki that doubted that he'd ever be able to forget it and he loathes the fact. He loathes it all, now that he thinks about it; loathes the way he loves him, loathes that he allowed himself to fall this low. 

His hands are trembling, the pale fingers clutching tightly to the white shirt he held; Tony's shirt. There's a red smudge on the collar, faint but still noticeable and it does not take a genius to make out that it is the scarlet smudge of a woman's lip stain. It contrasted brilliantly against the stark white of Tony's shirt and Loki has to wonder briefly if Tony just didn't want to try and hide it. It was as if he was trying to shove this in Loki's face and the very thought that maybe, just maybe, Tony might be trying to hurt him deepened that strike of loathing to the core. How could he have allowed himself to fall in love like this when he'd known that it would certainly bring hurt?

The elevator doors slide open then, Loki can hear them distantly. He can hear the soft steps as Tony crosses over into the tower living quarter, can hear the soft jingle as the billionaire drops the keys to one of his expensive sports cars on the bar counter. "Lo, I'm back." 

The use of the nickname, one used so often by this point, only fuels the pit of anger that had begun to well in his stomach. His fingers clutch tighter at the shirt, hard enough that if he were to pull just the slightest he'd surely rip the fabric itself. His emerald hues, alight with fury, are still locked on that dreadful mark along the collar; evidence of something long suspected. 

"And where did you go this night? Off to fuck another whore?" 

He can hear the pause, can almost smell the surprise and above that he can still smell the sickening and over-sweet smell of flowers and sunshine. For what seems a long moment, neither of them do anything. Tony has crossed over to him now, standing just before the small and stylist living room table, the only object that separates him from the sulking god lounging on the couch. 

Loki does not look up at him, how could he? He'd known from the start just what he could be getting himself in to and to look this man in the eyes would almost be as telling himself 'I told you so'.

"I-"

"Do not try to defend yourself." Loki growls lowly, holding up the shirt to put the sinful red mark on display. Finally, the god turns his eyes up to meet those warm amber ones he so adored. Loki's eyes are wet with tears, red and puffy from finally finding the evidence to bring his theory into the light. "Am I not enough for you?" 

Visibly, Tony tenses. For once, there seems to be no words on his tongue. He's been caught in a lie and there's no way out of it, not when it's a liesmith he's attempting to deceive. It's then that Tony breaks the eye contact, he turns his eyes to the right, his chest puffing as he draws in a deep breath. "Loki..."

No clear answer to his question. 

Loki's jaw clenches as it does when he's upset, his lips pressing into a thin line. There's a short shake to his head; disbelief. "Unbelievable." 

The billionaire before him says nothing and there's a moment of thick silence between them, not a word spoken. It's useless, beyond help and Loki can only see this broken thing that they've become. "I have not loved anyone in centuries, Anthony, and for good reason if this is what I have to face." 

The leather of the couch creaks gently as Loki pushes himself up and once standing he draws his wrist in just the slightest before flicking the soiled shirt across the table and hitting Tony square in the chest with what he's done. One step and the god has set course for the shared bedroom. The door opens easily, offering no resistance to oppose the god. 

He's already shoving the few things that he needs into a bag when he hears Tony enter behind him. He could have done this magickally, could have spared himself this moment of discomfort but Loki had long since grown accustomed to the manual ways the mortals did things and it seemed appropriate for one last moment between them. 

"What are you doing?" 

The question causes the anger to flare up once more and Loki pauses, clutching hard at his favourite shirt; a Black Sabbath t-shirt he'd stolen from Tony the first night they'd slept together. His throat tightens up at the memory and his eyes sting with fresh tears that he refuses to let fall. Loki flicks his wrist and the bag zips itself before he tosses it over his shoulder and stands once more, turning to face Tony and giving a slight cock of his head, "What does it look like I am doing, Anthony? I believe this is yours, perhaps it will fit nicely on that woman you're fucking." 

He holds the shirt up, offering a faux smile as he tosses it upon the still disheveled bed in the center of the room. 

"Don't go." 

It causes Loki to give a short, sarcastic laugh. "Don't go?" He asks, cocking his eyebrows at Tony once more. "Well, that's quite a request after all this. Certainly, let me just set aside everything. Let me just overlook that you've been sticking your cock in another and we can get back to the way things were before."

The Trickster's lips part, his jaw clenched and his cheeks wet with the tears he'd been trying so desperately to keep back. This time, Tony looks defeated. His shoulders sag just the slightest and his brows are pushed inwards like they do when he apologizes to Loki for petty things... save for this is far from petty. 

"Seriously, Loki... let's at least talk about this." He says, a pleading tone to his voice and Loki gives one more curt laugh, shaking his head. 

"Oh no. I've suspected this for months. That shirt was the only evidence that I needed."

Tony takes once step towards him, one small step and Loki is already conjuring up the magicks he needed to teleport himself away from this place. The ground around the god glows a gentle green, accented with a glimmer of gold and the colors reflect brilliantly in Tony's eyes as he connects just what Loki intends to do. 

His steps are muffled by the soft carpet beneath their feet though Tony does move quickly in an attempt to get himself to where Loki was standing. He reaches, meaning to circle his fingers around Loki's slim wrist but they slip through and meet nothing but air. The genius turns, his amber hues locking with Loki's pained emerald ones as he finds the god just behind him. 

"Please..."

The soft essence of magick licks at Loki's skin; up over his legs and against his fingertips, at the edges of his raven hued hair and against his tear stained cheeks. He shakes his head, "You've taught me a lesson, Anthony. I'm not meant to love." 

And all Tony can do is watch as Loki's form disappears, leaving nothing but empty space where he once was and the memory of his very soul embedded in every surface around Tony's life.


End file.
